


White Walls

by BitterEndXII



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Brain Damage, Frerard, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, Mental Institutions, OCD, One Shot, Stammer, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, True Love, Violence, assult, frank's pov, love making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterEndXII/pseuds/BitterEndXII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard changed, Frank can't deal with it. (Also on my Mibba)</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like it! It's another morbid one to add to my general scope (you know you love it really!) - Please give me some feedback! I need it my lovelies! <3

“I’ve, I’ve I, I, I went out today, today. I went out today. We, we…” he looked down, fumbling with his hands and pulling out a cigarette, his trembling fingers lighting up the object. His head pricked up and he looked me in the eye, he was so happy. He grinned.

“We, we, it was sunny outside… I went for a walk around the park with Lydia, around with Lydia, we know Lydia don’t we? We know who, who Lydia is, we do” I laughed with him and nodded, his little teeth poking out as he bawled. A quick paced, hitched laugh he developed, much like his speech. He took a drag of the cigarette, a short, breathy one, he didn’t appear really to have inhaled, the room simply filled with smoke.

With the fag hanging from his slightly parted lips, he opened up the box in his lap once more and began to pull out another. “Gerard,” I hushed, holding his hand. “You’ve already lit one up” I laughed again. He looked down and began to giggle. Oddly, he lit up the new one and stubbed out the other.

“I don’t need two lit up Frank, no, no, no, Frank, oh no, Frank!” his volume increased and he laughed at his turn of speech. “The sun, sun, the sun’s out Frankie, I wonder if I, I could go out later, in the sun, oh yes” he stood up before me; we’d been sat on the edge of his hospital bed.

Gerard stood at the window, tapping the glass with one hand and continuing his quirky stance of non-smoking with the other. I stood up likewise and wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“Oh Frank, Frankie…” he beamed, grinning, smirking – as per usual. “The park was n-nice, Frank. It was nice. Nice… I will, want to, want to go back tomorrow. Lydia says that you can come if you stay, you’ll stay Frankie!” he cheered, turning around.

He fell into my arms, his head resting softly on my chest under my chin. “You’ll stay and we’ll go out and it’ll be such a fantastic time. Lydia wanted to talk to you, to you. Because, well I don’t know why because, because she said so I suppose, yes, I suppose so” his speech often sped up like that, but it wasn’t always this way.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

I looked down at the panting boy below me, his eyes were hungry. His body screamed ‘fuck me’. “Frankie, please…” he murmured, his arms resting around my shoulders as I lent down and kissed his plump lips.

“Gerard…” I whispered into his ear, licking the shell. I nudged my hips forward and lined myself up with him again, us having paused for a moment; Gerard, poor thing, ached after half an hour. He smiled up to me, closing his eyes lazily and clutching to my shoulders. I pressed into his hot body; he shuddered, biting his lip.

“Oh god… fuck” he groaned, lifting his hips to get his perfect angle. He found it. “Shit” he hissed, opening his eyes to meet mine. He grinned warmly as we gathered a pace, his arms descending into the pillows around us, clutching for dear life. I reached between his legs and pumped him fast and ready.

“Mmm, Frankie…” his mouth hung open, his eyes were crazed; sweat dampened black hair stuck to his face, framing it perfectly. “You fuckin’ like that… slut” I growled at him, supporting myself by putting my hands either side of his head. He wrapped his legs around me, his cold feet skimming my lower back; a strangely personal touch – he always had cold hands and feet.

“Y-yeah” he choked out, bringing his arm down and stroking himself against my thrusts. “Fuck…” I couldn’t stop myself any more. I sped up my movements to an irregular rate, losing myself in his warmth. He whimpered and gasped as I brought myself to orgasm, knowing full-well that he’d be soon to release. “’m go-, going t’ come…” came his stifled cry, his finger nails sinking into my hips.

“Come for me baby” I whispered into the air, sitting up slightly, the coolness of the room around us hitting me. With a single muffled moan, Gerard came hard over our abdomens, and I soon after, softly pulling out and collapsing over his body, his sticky body merging with mine. Gerard giggled. “Mmm, Frankie…” his voice faded out, he brought his arms around my body, holding me sweetly. We laid like that for what only felt like minutes of bliss, but actually turned out to be hours.

“What time is it?” I mumbled. “Mm,” Gerard rolled his head. “Half ten” he grumbled, his head falling back to the middle of the pillow; his fingertips came up and brushed through my hair. “Fuck, I was gunna go out and get some milk…” It was strange trail of thought I know, but I’d considered it when I had first got home, but having been at work all day, Gerard had lured me into bed rather promptly. Gerard shuffled up to his elbows looked down at me.

“Milk?” he mused, grinning. I nodded, noting his playfulness. “I’ll nip out, we’re out of cigarettes too” he talked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Are you sure?” I puzzled; he was a strange kid. Gerard nodded enthusiastically, standing up and pulling up a pair of skinnies salvaged from the ground, no underwear of course.

“Yeah, the walk’ll be nice…” he picked up a hoodie and zipped it over his cooling chest. “I could get some beers if you wanted… or a movie?” he lent down to the bedside table and gathered his wallet. I looked into his weary face, plastered with a smile. I thought for a moment, flexing my shoulders against the pillows. “Will the rental place still be open?” I stalled for time, thinking about any new releases.

“Uh… Not the big place, but the off-licence has a few in the back, don’t they?” Gerard had shoved his hands in his pockets, standing above me, ready to leave. I nodded absently. “Have a look, but don’t worry too much about it. Get us a bottle of wine” with that, Gerard knelt down and kissed my lips fully, pressing his forehead against mine and smiling. “I love you… Miss you” I worked away too often, this was a rare occasion of closeness. “I love you too” I replied; and damn, I meant it, so much.

He left, offering a light wave and shutting the door softly behind him. I heard the front door swing shut a few moments later. I rolled over onto my back, sighing loudly and staring up at the ceiling, I knew that I was smiling. I let my eyes roll closed while I waited for Gerard to return, humouring the happiness that was welling up inside me; I felt almost giddy.

Half an hour passed me by and I’d gotten up to turn the television on, thinking that Gerard would have been likely to have bought a film after all, considering how much time he was taking. As I shuffled back into bed, my phone buzzed from the pillow beside me. I looked at the contact; it was Gerard of course, probably asking about a title. I thumbed the receive button. “Gerard?” I mused, lolling onto my side. “I told you to get whatever you wanted, what’s up?” I laughed lightly. I fucking laughed.

“Frank…” that was it. The most heart breaking sound I had ever heard. His voice was plain and ached and scratchy and I heard a rough grating sound as he cleared his throat; the sound of gravel. “Gerard?” I remember shooting up, clambering out of the bed and beginning to dress myself. My heart pounded in my chest.

“F-Frank… I…” his voice tapered off again. “Gee!” I called down the phone, racing down the stairs. “Where are you?” I could have had a panic attack. There was a long pause. “F-r… Frank, I love y-you… it’s-s gunna… be, be okay…” his words were breathy, he was struggling to talk. I darted out of the house, running in the direction I knew he would have been walking, checking every alley-way as I passed them.

“Gerard, where are you?” I practically yelled, tears flooding down my face. “m’… down Hampt-…Hampton stre…” he faltered. I cut across the road, desperate to get to him. “Okay, baby. It’s okay… I’m coming. Okay? Keep talking” I called again. There was a long breath, then he cried out; an agonised, screeching yell.

“I-I… I can see my fucking brains! Fuck! Oh God… Oh God… Frankie….” His voice was raspy now, he kept crying. I couldn’t speak anymore, I just ran. When I reached him, time slowed down. I could hear myself breathing. His body was twisted; bloody… there was so much blood.

I don’t remember calling an ambulance but I must have, my hands trembled as I held my phone to my face, and I heard the despatcher state “an ambulance is on its way, please keep talking to him, keep him awake. Sir?”. I hung up, sinking to my knees and holding desperately to Gerard’s hand.

I didn’t dare touch him. It was a combination of his head being mangled into the pavement and my fear of violence, but the doctors later told me that he would have died had I lifted him. A stared down at his hand, his short nails chipped and full of dirt. I couldn’t see his face.

I was pushed aside as they scrambled to his body, only to be bundled into the back of an ambulance minutes later. I couldn’t see Gerard through the sea of first responders attending to him, I myself was held down by another; apparently I had been hysterical. But I can’t remember.

I sat in the hospital for almost twenty-four hours. They couldn’t tell me a thing but all I kept thinking was “they’re gluing my boyfriend’s head back together in there”. I stared at that door, hoping he’d just walk out, but of course, he didn’t. I was taken to a white room with a doctor, he sat me down. There were others there too. He told me that Gerard had suffered massive head trauma, that they were setting his skull and stitching up his body.

That was all I registered, I sank into the seat and zoned out into my own mind. They gave me pills to make me happy. Hours and hours and hours passed by and there was still no movement from the surgery, all I could see were shadows travelling across the tinted glass of the door. Sometimes they ran.

The police came next, they asked me questions and then left again, but they returned several hours later. They claimed to have caught the hurricane that had torn my lover. I remember asking them shakily what had happened, and a blond emerged, sitting beside me and sighing.

Gerard had been followed home, turned around and had his head slammed across the walls of Hampton Street fruit market. He’d been dragged behind a skip and he’d been raped. “Most of his injuries were caused by a blunt object. We’ve found a hammer” the officers eyes were heavy with my pain, but I couldn’t meet them.

I cried on the ground. I was given more drugs and I remember waking up forgetting what had happened, if only for a moment, expecting to roll over in my own bed and feel Gerard’s thick hair. But I was on a bench in the hospital. The next day Gerard was stable enough for visitors, though he hadn’t woken up for several weeks. And when he did, he wasn’t Gerard any more. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“We, we, we should go out n-now Frankie!” he beamed. Gerard beamed. I had to tell myself that he was still Gerard. “If we’re allowed…” I trailed off. Reminding myself of what had happened was never good for me. Gerard could not remember anything.

“But of course, c-… course we’re allowed Frankie. We’re allowed to do anything out, if we go out” he began to laugh. For no apparent reason, he brought me into a tight hug, kissing the side of my head. He stayed quiet for a moment. At times like this, I could pretend that nothing had happened. I couldn’t see the absent and childish expression in his face nor could I hear him rambling on.

I know that I sound like the cruellest person in the world. I know that because my family and what I have left of my friends tell me it every day. They tell me that I should be grateful for every day that he’s alive, or that he was able to stay alive at all. And it’s true.

But I miss my best friend, I miss my eager lover, I miss what he could have been.

Suddenly, he brought his face up and placed his lips softly on mine. To say I was shocked was an understatement. He had never kissed me since the attack, I had him, but he’d never reciprocated; I assumed him didn’t understand what was going on.

I pressed back firmly, holding his body close to mine, savouring the moment. His eyes closed and he sighed into the kiss. I tried to push my tongue but he snapped back, paced around me, panicked, tapping against his leg with a sweaty palm.

“Frank... Frank” he was almost hyper ventilating. I was a piece of shit for not seeing it. “You can’t, can’t, can’t… c-, Frank…” he began heaving, my heart broke. “Baby… Shh, it’s okay” I tried to hold his hand, but it wasn’t to be. “I love you” it was the quietest I ever spoke, but I needed him to know. “I, I, I… s-. I wanna go… o-, Fra-…” his voice was hushed, he had started pulling at his hair, speeding about the room.

As the orderly came in to calm the boy down, I stood there and wept, soon to be ushered out and told that he’d be okay tomorrow. And I would come back tomorrow, because I had to keep trying.


End file.
